The Itch
by AuntMo
Summary: When he got his soul back, Death warned Sam that he would have an itch he should not scratch. Sam gets help with this problem from an unexpected source. Gen fic


Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural _or any of the characters.

A/N: Based on a lyric prompt. While I hope the general story line applies to the prompt/lyric, I think my muse had a mind of its own to some extent. Of course, my muse is as sleep deprived as I am right now. All mistakes are mine.

_Now, come on, let me kiss and make it better  
And better ain't the best I can do_

I'll take your wrong and make it right  
Take your load and make it light  
Dry your eyes and you can bet  
Any hurt that you remember, gonna help you forget

Make you numb to the pain;  
Hey, I'll be your Novocaine

_Novocaine by Little Big Town_

"He told you not to scratch."

Sam heard the sing-song voice and smelled a hint of chocolate in the salt air before he actually saw anything.

"Death warned you that it would itch and told you not to scratch it, kiddo. But when have you Winchesters ever done anything that was expected of you?"

Sam finally managed to lift his head up and open eyes, only to find himself on a hammock on the beach. He raised a hand to his brow to block the glare of the sun coming off the ocean. "Where am I? And how did you get here?" Sam accused Gabriel.

"Hey this is your party, Sammy," Gabriel smirked. "And from what I've heard, it's a lot better than your usual ones." Gabriel, too, was stretched out in a hammock, hands behind his head, wearing sunglasses, brightly patterned swim trunks and flip flops. Two Bahama Mama cocktails sat on a table between them. Sam breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Gabriel wasn't wearing Speedos. He didn't think he could take that right now.

Gabriel peered at him over the top of his sunglasses. "You would be lucky if I was, kiddo. But that's not why I am here. Death told you not to scratch."

"Yeah, that's the third time you have said that," Sam sighed, irritated at his current companion.

"But you keep doing it. If you keep it up, that wall is going to come tumbling down faster than Joshua and his motley crew brought down the walls of Jericho. And I'm telling you, that is going to be nothing but bad news for you."

"It itches," Sam whined like a petulant child. "Why would you even care? It's not like you haven't caused me your fair share of misery over the years."

"First of all, I wasn't trying to cause you misery. I was trying to spare you from the worst of it by showing you what was ahead. Secondly, that was a walk in the park compared to what's in store for you if that barrier should ever come down."

Sam mulled this over in silence before continuing. "You still haven't told me where we are."

"You boys really are muttonheads, aren't you?" Gabriel sighed. "We're up here," reaching over to tap on Sam's head with a finger. "In that thick noggin' of yours."

"So if this is happening in my head, is any of this real?" Sam wondered.

"Just because it is happening inside your head Sammy boy, doesn't make it any less real," Gabriel offered.

"So you don't just steal from television shows, huh? Apparently books like Harry Potter are fair game for you, too?"

"Hmph, well it still doesn't make that wall any less real, regardless of where I get my material," Gabriel snorted.

"So why are you here?"

"To make it itch less, Sam. To dull that urge to scratch. Too make you numb to the need to tear down that divider. In short, to make it better."

"So what, you're like my spiritual 'Tough Actin' Tinactin?" Sam chortled.

Gabriel's mouth was agape. "Sammy…eww...that's just…eww…"

"Says the celestial being responsible for placing me in a Herpexia commercial. It still doesn't explain why you of all people would do that for me."

"Like I have anything better to do for the next several decades? It is not like Dad has bothered to bring me back to the mortal plane like he did for Castiel. But He does seem to have some sort of affinity for you and your brother, in spite of all the crap that gets thrown your way. Or maybe because of it. So, here I am the ultimate distraction to the itch you can't scratch."

Sam pondered this for a moment before asking, "Will I ever get to choose the distraction?"

Gabriel looked offended. "What? You don't like the one I offered? Want me to add a few bikini clad babes to the mix? Or would a couple of guys in Speedos be more up your alley?"

Sam just shook his head. "For now, this is nice. But do you really think this will work as a distraction for my whole life?"

"Of course, not," Gabriel laughed. "But this is your dream, and you are with me. We can go anywhere or do anything either one of us can imagine. And I have a pretty active imagination if I do say so myself."

"Then you are only going to be here in my dreams?" Sammy hoped. "You won't be around when I am awake?" If Gabriel was being honest with him, then maybe Sam could get used to him being around in his head. And he did need to help. Sam didn't want to face what was on the other side of that divider. But it itched so badly. And he had to admit, it didn't itch as much since Gabriel had been here.

"Well, you can't really scratch that itch when you conscious, bucko. But I will still be in the back of your mind in case your thoughts start to wander. You just won't be as aware of me as you are now."

That was one thing Sam did have serious doubts about already. Especially since he was clearly craving more chocolate than he ever had in his life. He had never really liked Snickers, but he couldn't think of anything he would rather eat than one of those candy bars filled with nougat, peanuts and caramel. He also had an odd craving for a Pepsi Max soda. He didn't even drink soda. A beer on occasion with Dean, but soda? Never!

If this happened while he was awake, Dean would be sure to notice. How was he going to explain this to him? It was bad enough when they had to deal with Gabriel when he was alive. If Sam had to tell Dean that Gabriel was in his head, making sure that he didn't Shawshank his way through the wall that Death had put up, he could just see it now. Dean would flip out.

"Leave Dean to me and Cas," Gabriel interrupted.

"You can read my mind?" Sam asked, dumbfounded.

"Hel-lo. I am in your mind. Haven't we already covered that ground? And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Sam rolled his eyes, and then realized something else. "Wait a minute! Cas knows you are here? How long has Cas known you were going to show up in my head?"

"Technically, Cas doesn't know I'm here, yet," Gabriel hesitated. "Dad is going to send him a message. I think."

Sam's eyes grew wide with concern. "How exactly is that supposed to happen?"

"Well, officially, I am his messenger, so it will have to be from me…through you."

"Great!" Sam exclaimed. "Dean is already worried about me going off the deep end. And now you want to send your brother a message through me, telling him that you're in my head? That won't sound ten kinds of crazy."

"I can always tell him something only he and I would know," Gabriel offered. "That would help him believe you…me…I mean us. And once Cas believes us, then Dean will be sure to follow like a puppy in need of a good home."

"Cas, do you know what's wrong with Sam?" Dean pressed, concern for his brother etched on his face. "He has been asleep for way too long. You don't think that wall Death put up could have come down already?"

"It's highly unlikely, Dean," Cas sighed, slightly impatient with the hunter's constant questions. "It has only been a few days since Sam's soul has been restored. Your brother would have had to be digging at the structure constantly to do any significant damage."

"Then why can't we wake him up? Hell, why can't you reach his mind? That's never happened before." Dean paced back and forth in the motel room, unsure what to do next. Sam had been asleep for almost thirty six hours. Something was definitely wrong.

As Dean was pacing, Sam began to stir. Dean rushed to his side. "Sammy, Sammy. Are you okay?" Sam rubbed his eyes and slowly tried to sit up.

"What the hell happened, Sam? You been out for over a day and half," Dean exclaimed.

"Calm down, Dean," Sam yawned. "I was just dreaming."

"Dreaming? You've been asleep for a day and a half and all you can come up with is you were just dreaming?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I just..." Suddenly Sam's head turned to the right. "Shut up, Sammy. It's my turn to talk." Sam looked at Cas. "Hey bro. It's been awhile. How've you been? So Dean-o, you guys got any candy around here, because I'm hungry, and while I'm delivering my message to Cas, I could sure use a bite to eat."

Dean's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Cas offered. "Perhaps Sam has started to dig through the barrier that Death put up around the damaged parts of his soul, and has gotten farther than we could have imagined."

"Bro, it's not Sammy. It's me Gabriel. I'm just in Sammy's head right now."

"You sick sonofabitch!" Dean howled. "I don't care how you are back or how you got in there; just get the hell out of my brother!"

"Sorry, Dean, no can do," Gabriel apologized. "Dad put me here. I am not using Sammy as a vessel. I am just in his head. I am here as a distraction. Making sure he doesn't scratch that itch."

"I don't care if you are in there to try the latest candy bar from Hershey's. You're going to get out of my brother, now!"

"Dean, perhaps we should hear him out," Cas intervened.

"What? Fine," Dean said looking at Cas, grumbling. "But if he does any further damage to Sammy it's on you to fix him."

"So, brother," Cas began. "Why would our Father put you in Sam's head? And how do we know for sure that it is really you?"

"You really think Sam can do this on his own? You think that Sam can keep from tearing down the divider between sanity and insanity without a little help? While Death was willing to put up the barrier, he wasn't going to offer the Winchesters any further help. They have thwarted him too much over the years. Dad, on the other hand, thinks they have been plenty of help to Him. So He wanted to offer them a favor in return."

"Finally," Dean exhaled. "Someone on your side of the equation other than Cas wants to offer a little assistance."

"Dean, there are many other instances when my Father has intervened. You have just been unwilling to acknowledge those," Cas said. "But as to my second question…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Gabriel answered. "Well, how about I tell you something only you and I would know? Cas, do you remember the time when you were just a little more than a fledging and I had to come to Earth and bring you with me? I left you in the care of Gomer, the prophet Hosea's fangirl…and um, well you had to witness all of those things that I asked you not to tell Dad about?"

"Surely you realize that our Father was aware of those things, even if I did not tell Him? And she was not, as you say, a fangirl," Cas growled. "She was a harlot. And those things that I witnessed were murders, human sacrifices and demon worship. I never did understand was so important that you had to leave me alone with that woman."

"Well, if you thought Gomer was a looker, you should have seen her younger sister! Anyway, I got you out of there before things went too far south. And Hosea married that girl. All's well that ends well, right?"

"This is most definitely Gabriel," Cas reluctantly admitted. "If our Father sent Him, then I suppose we can trust him as much as we ever could."

Dean's eyes narrowed at his brother. "I want to talk to Sam again. Now!"

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties twisted. It was good to see you again, too, Dean-o." With that Gabriel, recessed into the corners of Sam's mind.

"Sammy, are you back with us?" Dean ventured.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me," Sam replied.

"Did that douche-bag hurt you?"

"No Dean, he didn't. And he's still here, in my head. He's helping me Dean, really he is. He's making it bearable."

"Seriously, Sammy?" Dean pried. "He's not playing any mind games with you?"

"No, Dean," Sam said. "I think I slept that long because I actually could. I didn't try to mess with the barrier. Gabriel kept me distracted. He was a little annoying, but overall, he wasn't that bad. I think he is truly trying to help."

"I don't like it Sam, but I'm going to have to trust you. However, the first time he gives you any trouble, you tell me and we will find away to pull his sorry ass out of your head, understand me?"

"Absolutely, Dean. Now, could someone get me a Snickers bar, please?"


End file.
